Page 131 of Distress Signal

I described her denim skirt, white blouse, and matching boots—though hers were brown. We purposely purchased different colors so we could share them.

“Somehow, Lainey found us a table. In that sea of bodies, impossibly, no one had claimed it, so she did. I went to the bar and got our first round.”

“What were you drinking?”

“Vodka sodas, same as always.”

“Was this when you met Finn?”

“No. I got drinks after waiting for what seemed like hours,then went back to the table. Lainey and I stood there, sipping and taking in the scene.”

We were from the south, you know? Country bars weren’t uncharted territory for us, especially not when one of the biggest country stars of our generation happened to be from our same hometown. But the vibe at the Swallow was…different. No one made any effort to impress anyone else. Back home, eyes would’ve followed us everywhere, accompanied by whispers of the shitty hand we’d been dealt with the loss of our parents. But in Dusk Valley…no one knew us. No one gave a fuck who we were.

“When did you meet Finn?”

“The next time I went to the bar. I begged Lainey to go since I got the first round, but she insisted she was better suited to ‘protect the table.’” I chucked as I recalled her words. “I was on my way there when some guy touched my ass.”

“Tony Walters.”

I’d never learned the creep’s name, but it made sense Lane had.

“Finn and I chatted for a bit, then I headed back to my sister. When I got there, she told me she was leaving with the guy she’d just met.”

“Was that out of character for her?”

I snorted. “No. Lainey was the queen of one-night stands.”

Meanwhile, the only time I’d ever participated in one, the man had haunted me for seven years, re-entered my life unexpectedly, and I’d fallen in love with him.

Lainey, on the other hand, was the fuck-’em-and-leave-’em type.

“Let’s talk about this guy. He was tall, right?”

“By normal standards, maybe? Like to Aspen, yeah, he’d be considered tall.”

Aspen made a noise of protest but didn’t refute me.

“But not to you?” Lane asked.

“Lainey and I are five ten. This guy wasmaybetwo inches taller than us.”

“What about the rest of him?”

“Brown hair, muscular build.”

“How muscular?”

“Like he used his hands for a living. Not as trim as Trey, but not as stacked as you.”

“Anything else? Eye color?”

“I never saw his face.”

I explained how he’d had his back turned to me when I arrived at the table. How he was chatting with some other guys, but I couldn’t remember anything about them.

“Any idea how old he was?”

“Not a clue,” I admitted. “But Lainey never mentioned he was older or anything, so I’d guess somewhere around our age.”